


After

by jordieey



Series: Trust Takes Time [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post Infinity War, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 22:27:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16564307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jordieey/pseuds/jordieey
Summary: After the Infinity War, Tony and Natasha find comfort in each other, and set off to help those in need.





	After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rick_Peterson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rick_Peterson/gifts).



The aftermath of the Infinity War was…well, “brutal” would be putting it mildly. Sure, plenty of people went through the whole “thank God we’re not all dead” celebration, but that didn’t change the fact that buildings had been destroyed, and hundreds--thousands--of people were dead. 

Still dead. While some had come back after the Snap, others just...hadn’t.

Tony didn’t pretend to understand. He may be a scientist, but he was exhausted, traumatized, and somehow still relieved. 

And yeah, Tony occasionally felt guilty for how grateful he was most of his favorite people had come back, but screw it, Tony had been through a lot, dammit. He had a right to be selfish sometimes.

His therapist would agree with him. If Kenneth had been one of the people to come back, that is. 

Fuck the universe. Fuck his life. 

“Tony,” a voice said, breaking through his thoughts. The voice was accompanied by a hand on his shoulder. 

With a sigh, Tony looked up looked and met the concerned eyes of his wife. She pressed her thumb into his shoulder, massaging it gently. 

Someone else might have sprouted some sentimental bullshit, like “It’s alright,” or “None of it was your fault.” Hell, even “You’ll get through this.” 

Not Natasha, though. She never bullshitted him. Not anymore.

Instead, Natasha straddled his lap, and drew him close so that his rested on her chest. 

In another situation, in another time, Tony might have taken this as an opportunity to turn things more /interesting/. But as it was, the only times he and Natasha seemed to be intimate in bed these days was when they were going through the desperate “You’re not dead--we survived” stage, and when they needed another way to comfort each other. 

Which was quite often, really. 

“Do you need to call Peter?” Natasha asked softly, with a gentleness she only showed people she absolutely trusted. “Or Pepper?”

“What time is it, Friday?” Tony mumbled, not even lifting his head.  
“Two thirty-seven, boss?” Friday replied, cautiously. AIs shouldn’t even be able to sound like that, Tony mused. It just showed how much sentience she really had. 

Tony really was a genius. That had never been a lie.

With a sigh, Tony wrapped his arms around Natasha’s waist, pulling her impossibly closer. Her fingers ran through his hair.

“Too late; don’t wanna wake them.” Tony leaned back slight, craning his neck so he could look at Natasha’s face. “May would probably kill me, anyway.

Natasha nodded solemnly in acknowledgement, lightly scratching his scalp. It relaxed him somewhat.

When Tony had approached the Parker house after finally returning to earth, he could scarcely remember a time when he had been so utterly devastated and terrified at the same time. Watching Quill the day before, as he learned that Gamora (who Tony assumed was his girlfriend or wife) had forcefully brought his mind to Natasha. In all the chaos, they had been separated, and it had taken all of Tony’s willpower not to panic; not to imagine her dead in a number of different ways.

Stabbed, shot, crushed, choked…

That moment had forced Tony, for a minute, to consider what he would do if something had happened to her. He didn’t like the answers he came up with.

And then Peter had died in his arms. Natasha, when they finally found each other, was the only one to make him feel even remotely better. 

May wasn’t happy with Tony--then or now. She’d screamed, cried and hit him repeatedly, asking him how he could encourage /her child/ to do such dangerous things. Why hadn’t he saved him, why hadn’t he stopped him from being Spider-Man in the first place, why....

She’d collapsed to the ground, a hand over her mouth.

“My boy, my beautiful boy…” 

She hadn’t liked Tony before, when she first found out about Spider-Man. But she hated him now.

Tony didn’t blame her. 

Sometimes he hated himself.  
Bracing his hands on her hips, Tony managed to lean back enough to glimpse Natasha’s face. 

“More nightmares?” he asked her.

Natasha pursed her lips. “No. I noticed you were gone.”

A spike of guilt flashed through Tony, and he glanced away. “Sorry.” 

Nightmares were a common occurrence between the two of them these days. More than once, Tony had woken Natasha with his terrified screams. At one point, he even clocked her in the face, leaving behind a small, purple bruise as a reminded. 

Tony still wondered why Natasha hadn’t parried the blind, uncoordinated attack. Skilled as she was, she could have done so easily. It didn’t stop him from feeling horrible. 

Natasha said nothing. She climbed off Tony’s lap, grabbing his hands as she did so. The moonlight made her skin appear almost silver. 

“Come.” 

Tony did, and Natasha lead him back to their room, where she laid his head in her lap. Grabbing a Starkpad off their bedside table, Natasha turned it on, the glow lighting up her vivid eyes.

She spent a few minutes searching, and her soft voice filled the air, immediately calming him:

“Bilbo had escaped the goblins, but he did not know where he was. He had lost his hood, cloak, food, pony, his buttons and his friends. He wandered on and on, till the sun began to sink westwards—behind the mountains. Their shadows fell across Bilbo’s path, and he looked back. Then he looked forward and could see before him only ridges and slopes falling towards lowlands and plains glimpsed occasionally between the trees.”

****  
A week later, they were leaving.

Tony straightened from where he had shoved a suitcase into the car, and placed a hand over his eyes as he squinted up at the sky.

It was a rather nice day, which Tony still found mildly surprising. With the chaos of the Infinity War, it wouldn’t have out of place for the sky to be grey at all times, mourning the deaths of countless people. 

The sun shone cheerfully in a way that felt entirely out of place. A light breeze rustled through Tony’s hair, making some tension he hadn’t noticed bleed from his shoulders, slowly but surely. With a slight smile, Tony watched a bird of some sort fly in the distance.

It seemed there was some things Thanos couldn’t destroy. 

The sight of a car a driving down the road to his and Natasha’s private--emphasis on “private”--vacation home had him dropping his hand, a frown already forming on his features. 

It sure as hell better not be Fury. Despite his efforts, the SHIELD captain had not yet managed to change his mind, and Tony was determined he never would. 

Riri Williams was the perfect replacement for Iron Man, and no one could convince him otherwise. 

Natasha understood. She hadn’t even tried to talk Tony out of retirement. Instead, upon his announcement, she had looked at him grimly and said, “I understand. I’ve been thinking of taking some time off, too.” 

God, he loved her.  
The car idled along slowly, getting on Tony’s nerves with every inch it progressed. When Tony glimpsed who was inside, he crossed his arms and gritted his teeth. 

Steve Rogers. Of course. Because who else would it be?

The car was one of those anique types--definitely the kind that that was still around in Steve’s original timeline.

Tony didn’t blame Steve for holding onto his past. Really, he didn’t. Who wouldn’t in his situation? But that didn’t mean it was healthy. 

Where did he even get that thing? T’Challa? 

The car stopped just beside Tony and Natasha’s, and Steve locked eyes with Tony through the windshield. 

He and Steve hadn’t seen each other since they had grudgingly put aside their differences for the good of the world. Tony hadn’t missed the way Steve always kept himself between him and James Barnes, how he watched Tony warily from time to time.

As if Tony was going to pitch a fit when their world had literally come to an end. Please. Tony was an asshole, but he could be mature when he wanted to.

Unlike some people. 

When Steve made no other move except to turn the old dinosaur off, Tony raised an eyebrow. If Captain “sometimes my teammates don’t tell me things” thought Tony was going to make the first move, he had another think coming. 

Was it petty? Perhaps. But Tony was done with Captain Spangles and his holier than thou attitude. 

So he waited. And eventually, Steve’s shoulders heaved in a deep sigh, and he stepped out of the vehicle. 

Tony’s fingers flexed, preparing to wrap himself in armor at a moment’s notice. 

He fingered his wedding ring. A simple press of the red hourglass would send a distress signal to Natasha’s own; if he held it for three seconds, the rings would act as walkie talkies. They were new additions Tony had built in a frenzy one night after the Infinity War. Beauty and functionality and all that. 

Steve was standing awkwardly by his old-as-hell car now. He seemed to hesitate, before slamming the door closed, and taking a few steps forward. Tony just barely resisted the urge to back away. 

They stared at each other, eyes locked. Tony cocked an eyebrow, waiting. 

Heaving a sigh, Steve said, “Hey, Tony.”

“Rogers,” Tony replied, his tone curt. Dammit, why wasn’t Natasha here yet? Surely Friday would have informed her of the intruder. His baby girl was rather protective of him these days. 

Tony wasn’t ashamed to admit that a part of him was afraid of being alone with Rogers. He also didn’t mind admitting that Natasha made him feel safe by her sheer presence alone. Tony was a human being, at the end of the day. As it turned out, sometimes he really did need protecting. 

Natasha could also scare the shit of Tony, but that was neither here nor there. 

Ducking his head, Rogers rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost like an embarrassed schoolboy. “How’ve you been?”

Tony scoffed. He was so not doing this. 

“Cut the crap, Rogers. What are you doing here?” 

Lifting his head, Rogers had the audacity to look a bit insulted. He opened his mouth, and Tony could already hear the lecture coming. Jaw clenched, Tony resisted the urge to punch him in the face. 

Any lecture, however, was cut off by the sound of a voice purring, “Indeed, Rogers, what /are/ you doing here?”

Natasha came to stand next to him, Tony’s suitcase dragging behind her, and an overnight bag hanging on her shoulder. She gave Rogers a soft, terrifying smile that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a shark.  
Eyeing the bag, Tony wondered if there were weapons in there. He wouldn’t put it past her.

“Tony.” Rogers sounded scandalized. Tony frowned as Rogers moved forward, looking as though he intended to take Natasha’s load.

Ah. The old-fashioned chivalry. 

Tony could be courteous when he wanted to be, but he would rather chew broken glass than risk offending Natasha’s independant nature. One would think Steve would have picked up on this by now. Apparently not. 

“I assure you, Rogers,” Natasha said cooling, stopping the blond in his tracks. “I can manage just fine on my own.”

Rogers hesitated, shifting from foot to foot. He was almost standing right in front of Tony, which, for the record he was not. At all. Comfortable with. 

The sidelong glance Natasha said she knew full well what Tony’s problem was. 

“Are you sure?” Rogers aksed. Seriously, couldn’t he take a hint? “It’s really no trouble, Natash--” He stopped, blue gaze darting from Tony to Natasha, before he finished, with obvious reluctance, “Mrs. Stark.”

Natasha had no visible reaction to that, except to elbow Rogers out of the way and place her load in the car. That done, she turned around and crossed her arms. Rogers was forced to turn his back on Tony in order to face her. 

“That would be Agent Romanov to you,” Natasha said coolly, as Tony edged around Rogers to stand next to her. “Or Black Widow, seeing as I have earned my title back.” She pressed a hand to the small of Tony’s back, her hand under his shirt. Almost instantly, Tony relaxed, if only somewhat.

Confusion filtered into Rogers’s eyes, and Tony didn’t even try to reign in his smirk. The fact that he was squinting as a result of the sun only made it more hilarious. Again, his eyes darted between them.

“I thought you two were married.”

“We are,” Tony replied, unable to reign in the mocking edge in his voice. “Natasha’s her own woman, Rogers. She didn’t want to change her name when she married me, so she didn’t.” 

His response didn’t seem to alleviate Rogers’ bewilderment, which just showed how stuck in the past he still was. Tony wondered how so many people had missed that. Hell, the man should have been seeing his own therapist when he came off ice, not saving the world from aliens.

Tony wondered, briefly, if that would have affected the end results. 

“Why are you here, Rogers?” Natasha asked, tapping her finger on Tony’s spine once.

Finally. Now they were getting somewhere. 

Rogers seemed to startle at that somewhat. And straightening, his jaw locked, Rogers’ face set into an expression of determination.

Oh, joy. Captain Stubborn Asshole was back. 

Yeah, Tony was bitter and resentful. Sue him. 

“Neither of you have responded to any Avengers calls, or attended any meetings since the War. I think we deserve to now why.”

/Who’s we?/ Tony wondered. He didn’t say this out loud, however. Instead, he said, “In case you haven’t noticed Rogers, I’m retired. Iron Heart is taking care things.” 

A butterfly flew across Tony’s field of sight as Rogers’ jaw seemed to clench even more. 

“You know you can’t just quit being an Avenger, Tony,” Rogers stated, using his captain voice. “We have a duty--”

“Technically, we don’t,” Natasha cut in, sounding bored. Her head rested on Tony’s shoulder, and she examined the nails on her right hand, which Tony had painted black for her a few days ago. “Or at least, my husband doesn’t. /Dr. Stark/ has more than made up for what his former foster father did, and, if you recall, /Dr. Stark/ was not the sole one responsible for Ultron. Which he has also been paying for. If anything, he has a right to simply do nothing, if he so chose.”  
Steve seemed shocked at Natasha’s words. To be honest, so was Tony. He wasn’t sure he agreed with Natasha, but it was nice, knowing someone didn’t resent him for past actions. 

“Now if you would excuse us, Rogers,” Natasha continued with faux politeness. “We really should be going.”

Turning around, Natasha started toward the driver’s side on the door, a clear indication that Tony should get in the passenger’s. He was just about to do just that when Rogers called out, “Wait, where are your going?”

“Vacation, Rogers,” Tony replied, turning around and crossing his arms. The blonde’s face hardened, and Tony rolled his eyes. 

“Natasha and I are taking a trip, to see what we can do to help people in ways that doesn’t involve punching the problem.”

Coming back up to his side, Natasha continued, “And what better way than to actually see the people we’re helping?” 

Seemingly at a loss for words, Rogers said, “That’s…”

“Good day, Rogers,” Natasha cut him off.

And with that, they got in the car, and left.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this turned out longer than I planned. Hope it was good.
> 
> Reviews, please?


End file.
